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<title>Oikawa is messy by bungee_bepbop</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29731311">Oikawa is messy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bungee_bepbop/pseuds/bungee_bepbop'>bungee_bepbop</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Haikyuu - Freeform, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Oikawa has OCD, Sad Oikawa Tooru, oikawa tooru - Freeform, vent fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:13:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>637</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29731311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bungee_bepbop/pseuds/bungee_bepbop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa suffers from OCD, but no one believes him because he's messy. Tonight is just another struggle for him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Oikawa is messy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s no stopping it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was 2 am and Oikawa was scratching his skin. It was cracked and sore from being over-washed and sanitized. The past 2 hours he had spent trapped in a cycle knew so well yet hated so much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click the doors shut.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Check under your bed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Check under your chair.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Check behind the curtains.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Check the doors again but stand on your chair while doing it so your feet don't touch the ground.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The doors probably clicked open again so you should go check if they’re closed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The bed feels wrong, check under it again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The doors feel wrong, make sure they’re clicked shut.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been 2 hours of repetitive checking and none of it helped. It never helped though. No matter how many times he checked the doors, made sure they were shut, made sure there was nothing hiding behind them it never stopped the itch under his skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted it to stop. He so desperately wanted it to stop. He first realized he did this when he was 12. He was in middle school and as he was checking under his chair to make sure nothing was hiding there and he thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘when did I start doing this?’ and </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was as if for the first time in months he realized it wasn’t normal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had it all. Intrusive thoughts, compulsions, rituals, perfectionism, over-grooming, the list went on. But because he was messy no one believed him. His room was messy. It grossed people out that he'd leave clothes and food everywhere but the mess simply piled up and he couldn’t stop it. He had tried to clean his room before, of course he did. But it would only last a day before clothes and dishes and trash started to pile up because he couldn’t get it to stay clean and his control would spiral and the mess would take over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn’t make sense coming from him. He was put together. He was responsible and intelligent. He was someone who was preoccupied with his appearance, with his grades, with hobbies and interests. But he was also someone stuck in a cycle. A cycle of neverending whispers in his head telling him just ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>one more! Then you can stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>!’. A cycle urging him to do something that he’d get killed doing and a cycle that left him exhausted and horrified, convinced every bad thing that could happen could and would happen to him if he didn’t do one futile action. So, he was stuck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stuck in a cycle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re being watched. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stuck in a loop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Throw yourself in front of the train.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stuck in his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do it again. It didn’t feel right. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stuck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If your feet touch the ground then they’ll get you and you’ll die. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to stop so badly. But after almost 5 years, maybe more, of these same rituals, same habits, same intrusive thoughts, same everything, he knew there’s no stopping it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s the person who does 100 serves after practice ends because he’s stuck in a cycle. He needs the repetition and he needs each one of them to </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s the person who has to look away when the train comes in so he doesn’t throw himself in front of it. Not because he wants to die but because he simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s the person who has to check their room every night because he feels like he’s being watched. Convinced if he doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> will kill him while he sleeps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s the person that’s been late to school because he was trimming his eyebrows. Because he was doing his hair. Because he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to look perfect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But no one believed him when he said he needed help. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All because he was messy. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, thank you for reading ^-^</p><p>I based Oikawa's OCD strongly on my own in this fic and I ended up using it as an outlet bc I'm actually being kept up by my OCD in real life :')</p><p>(Anyways- it always frustrates me when people think OCD is only cleaning/contamination (I know for some it can be- but I don't typically like how it's portrayed). I only have minor issues with germs myself but because they aren't my main focus I'm never taken seriously when I talk about my OCD because it doesn't 'look' like I have it.)</p><p>Anyways- thanks for reading and if you happen to like my writing style (even though this was kind of a short drabble) I'm always open to hearing fic/coupling requests ^-^</p></blockquote></div></div>
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